


Afterglow

by Moonlight_42



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlight_42/pseuds/Moonlight_42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'With numb hands Stiles tried to push Derek's unmoving body away from him but Derek stayed there; on top of him half naked, dick hanging out from the opening of his jeans touching the skin of Stiles's inner thigh.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire

• Stiles •

After the spell broke everything became eerily quiet. The trees stopped rustling, instead they loomed ominously like starving demons. Stiles flinched at the sudden screech of a near owl. And with the sound of it's fluttering wings, the illusory calm that had settled over flew away into the darkness.

Stiles eyes felt gritty, weighted below two heavy rocks. His chest felt heavy too, where Derek's weight was pressing down, lying unconscious.

Stiles looked to his left through slitted eyes. The world was still blurry but he could see the witch's ablaze body not even 10 ft. away. The heat of the fire was making his inside cold.

With numb hands Stiles tried to push Derek's unmoving body away from him but Derek stayed there; on top of him half naked, dick hanging out from the opening of his jeans touching the skin of Stiles's inner thigh. Cum and sweat and blood all mixed together in a sticky bitter goo. Stiles shoved him violently and Derek landed beside him with a flop. A sharp pain ripped through his lower region when he tried to sit up, so he stayed on the ground.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, they came away wet. He tried to surmise their current predicament but his brain wasn't working correctly. A panic attack was threatening to break free. Stiles pushed it down forcefully. Lying on the ground wasn't gonna solve anything, wasn't going to make anything better so Stiles gingerly sat up. He can't let his mind wander, he had to think logically, make a plan or else Stiles was certain he's gonna lose his mind.

The jeans were coiled around his ankles like metal chains. Derek hadn't taken them off entirely. He's still wearing his T-shirt; a bit torn up in places; Derek hadn't taken that off either. Stiles hands trembled as he dragged his jeans up and covered his leftover dignity.

Stiles noticed distractedly he was trembling all over. Maybe the cold wind was picking up but Stiles couldn't feel the sharp air piercing through his skin. Phantom fingers were still ghosting over his body; touching him, holding him down, penetrating his inside. His red hoody lay crumbled on the filthy ground. Fallen leaves and dead twigs snapped sharply under his weight as he crawled towards it. Stiles hastily put it on because he couldn't stand to look at the finger shaped marks on his wrist anymore.

Stiles wondered if anyone would come looking for them. His dad was on shift tonight and Scott was with Isaac. Maybe nobody even knew that he was missing. Stiles didn't know about Derek but he was supposed to be at home, reading for the upcoming Chemistry test. Little snatches of memory danced messily in front of his eyes, but before he could catch them, they slithered away. Stiles can't remember how he got here in the first place.

All he can remember what happened after that. Vividly.

Stiles eyes landed on Derek. A cold shiver ran through him, his mind stuttered. And for the first time it seemed his mind was blank, a hollow place had taken over his thoughts and emotions. 

 

• Derek •

The first thing Derek came to was the smell of burning flesh and then the feeling of burning pain crawling through his entire body. His dick felt sore.

The smell was familiar; fire melting skins and bones until there's nothing left of the body. Derek remembered that smell when he was sitting beside Laura in the backseat of a police car in the aftermath of his stupidity.

The fresh smell of his burnt out family still tingling his nose. And again when he buried the body of his only left family member underneath his brunt out house. Derek had come to associate the smell with dread and destruction.

The moon seemed to shine extra bright tonight. And Stiles looked like a statue, white and still underneath the blue moon. Derek can feel the blue of his eyes slowly bleeding back into normal hazel. His head pounded and chest throbbed in a bizarre harmony.

Derek may not be the smartest person in the world. Hell, not even in Beacon Hills. And sometimes he couldn't even grasp the simplest of concepts. But he was not stupid. And right now the horrifying picture that his brain was trying to paint, was making him feel like he killed his family all over again.

A terrible noise was coming from somewhere like a dying animal. And Derek was not surprised that he was making that sound. The witch's bone snapped in the pulsated fire and Stiles eyes snapped at his face but it was short lived. Stiles's gaze flinched away like he's been electrocuted. Derek looked down at the ground. Guilt and shame churning heavily in his stomach. Derek opened his mouth but in stead of words a pathetic whine came out.

"Don't say anything." Stiles snapped at him and Derek gripped the ground so hard that one of his claws broke.

Derek swallowed trice. His throat felt chafed dry. Derek can physically feel the raw wave of Stiles's emotions coming at him. "Call someone."

"And tell … tell them what exactly?" Stiles monotonous voice reached his ear. Derek risked a glance up. Stiles is staring at the far distance, the ever present fire in his amber eyes dimmed and dulled.

"You should go to the hospital. Call you dad. Tell him what happened. Tell him what I did." Derek's voice broke like a pubescence at the last word.

"And what did you do?"

"Stiles …"

"No! No. Shut up! This time …. this time you'll listen to me Hale! I will not call my dad. You will not involve anyone else. We will forget about anything happened tonight and never … ever speak of it ever again. Because I refused to be humiliated anymore!" Stiles rounded at him angrily. Wobbling and wincing and damned determine not to show any hurt Stiles stood up. Derek gagged at the fresh smell of blood and semen.

"I did this to you." Derek wanted to get up and pace and scream but Stiles startled at the slightest movement and tried to back away. So Derek lowered his head stayed at the ground unmoving.

"Yes you did." Derek flinched at the truth. "But it was not your fault." Stiles finished, tone accusing and consoling at the same time.

 

Stiles stood with his back against a tree when Derek took care of the body. They trekked out of the woods. Stiles following him at a measured pace few feet away. Derek found his car parked on a dirt road haphazardly, doors still open on the driver's side. Stiles silently slipped in the back seat wincing slightly when he sat down. Derek helplessly watched for a moment then got in and started the car. Stiles seemed calm now. Eerily calm and Derek didn't want to spook him.

The night fell silent again as Derek stopped in front of the Sheriff's house. Derek wished the Sheriff was at home, to know what he did to his only son and then shoot at him so that Derek can feel less guilty.

Derek heard Stiles took some shaky breath and got out. He sat in the car and watched as Stiles retrieved something … a spare key from a predictably placed stone. Stiles got inside after the fifth try. Derek can see his hands shaking from here.

His heart lurched in fear when Stiles left the front door wide open seemingly unconscious of his surrounding. Derek hastily got out of the car and followed Stiles silently, not too close not too far.

 

• Stiles •

The digital numbers of Stiles's alarm clock blinked 2.12 am in small red LED lights in his dark room.

Red like his hoody, red like Derek's eyes staring down at him with raw hunger when Stiles struggled wildly beneath him. Pleading and begging to 'Stop … Derek …please …stop…please….'

"You should go. I don't want you here." Stiles whispered harshly. He knew Derek can hear him perfectly. Stiles listened carefully as Derek stepped away from just outside his room where he had followed Stiles from a distance like a silent shadow. To make sure that Stiles was safely back at home. Stiles scoffed bitterly and this time Derek even used the door to escort him.

Stiles heard front door clicked shut and the Camaro's engine fading away from the road with Derek. He released a ragged breathe he hadn't realized he's holding.

Everything felt surreal. His body felt foreign and mind disconnected. Like he was having an outer body experience. The room seemed to zoom in & out before him. Taking oxygen seemed like a chore and the lack of oxygen making him dizzy. Stiles vehemently wished that he could just simply pass out right now. Because he could deal with a lot of supernatural and deadly things but he couldn't deal with this right now. If ever.

He didn't pass out though or fainted or collapsed in a hysterical heap on his floor. Stiles swayed on his feet and stood in the middle of his room as he'd been standing since Derek left. Stiles eyed the time. It's 3.30 in the morning. His bed looked inviting. Lying down and sleeping like the dead seemed like a good plan but the filthy clothes and dirt itches against his skin.

Stiles slowly trudged towards the bathroom, every careful step was a painful reminder. The house was quiet tonight. Too quiet. His dad would be home in the morning from station. Unaware and ignorant that anything had gone amiss in his house. That his only son had gone missing for a few hours. Abducted from his very room. Stiles turned on the bathroom switch and flinched against the sharpness of the light. He wanted his dad right now, to make him feel better, to make him feel safe and protected but the thought of picking up the phone and calling his dad sent fear through his veins.

Stiles avoided looking at the mirror. He didn't want further proof of what was done to his body. His body was proof enough when it throbbed with every movement.

The first spray of cold water hit his back sharply. The prospect of an emotional break down in the shower stall peacefully and letting it all out once and for all never came; in stead Stiles panted through his mouth unevenly and stared and stared at the red tinted water as it swirled below his feet into the drain.

 

• Derek •

There was a man staring back at him; scruffy, disheveled. Snarling at him angrily from the mirror with sharp fangs. Derek fist connected with the mirror and the image broke. Derek couldn't recognize this version of himself.

He had always considered being a werewolf was a gift. Derek always took pride in his lycan abilities. But tonight … tonight he felt like a monster that Kate the Argents and every other hunter ever accused him of. Even Stiles once thought of him as some kind of monster. The murderer of his own sister. Maybe Stiles was right.

He's always right. A voice whispered treacherously. And maybe Stiles was correct in accusing him a murderer because tonight he had proved Stiles right. He had killed the boy's innocence with his keenly forge depraved lust. He was weak and pathetic. A disgrace to his Alpha position as Peter graciously pointed it out at every turn. Couldn't even control his instinct, his wolf.

Stiles wanted him to forget everything but how can he forget if he didn't remember it in the first place. His head hurts and a blank canvas came in the forefront of his mind when he tried to recall what happened. All he can remember was taking his car out for a night stroll. But the feeling of wrong doing was poking at his conscience.

Sometimes Derek wished that if he hadn't been born a werewolf then may be he could stop hurting the people around him. Because that's the only thing seemed like he's good at. 

He was lucky once. Happy and blessed with a big family and unconditional love. Then he became greedy. Peter tempted him with false hope and pretty words and Derek had fallen right into it. The promise of forever with Paige had taken her life. Then the thirst of to be with Kate had taken his whole family. He had failed Laura when Derek let her come back here alone knowing the danger of a rogue Alpha. He had failed his betas. He had failed everyone even himself.

The pungent smell of vomit filled the air. Derek looked up at his reflection in the broken mirror. Cracked and beaten. And Derek admitted that he had finally failed as a person too.

 

-*-


	2. Heat

• Stiles •

The sky seemed to agree with his mood this morning. Dark with heavy clouds. Thunder rolled around rattling his window frame. Stiles watched despondently as big droplets of rain hit the glass of his window.

Watching the rain was way better than looking for cracks in the ceiling, Stiles thought. He went back to watching the grey ceiling.

He felt exhausted, the tiredness had seeped into his bones long ago. His limbs were heavy, trying to drown him in his soft mattress. But his eyes refused to close no matter how hard he tried. Stiles had listened as his dad's cruiser pulled in the driveway at 5 am. The sounds of his dad getting ready for bed. That was 3 hours ago.

The soft fingers of sleep was teasing him so sweetly but the unknown fear of bleak nightmare was keeping him awake and alert. His heart was playing a weird beat, sometimes too fast and sometimes too slow.

Just yesterday he had so many things planned for today. But today those plans seemed scattered and meaningless.

Stiles startled at the knock on his door.

"No school today?" His dad frowned at him from the doorway. Taking in Stiles's pasty complexion and panda eyes.

"Don't feel good."

School? Stiles was so busy not letting any thoughts seep into his brain that the thought of school had entirety slipped his brain. But the mere idea of going to school with so many bodies moving all around him, touching him intentionally or accidentally made him hyperventilate. Breath hitching minutely Stiles gripped at his blanket.

"Okay, kiddo. I'll call the school. Do you need anything?" He must look really sick cause his father agreed with him without any fuss. Stiles stayed mute.

"You don't look too good son. Let me get you some medication." The sheriff came near Stiles's bed and put a hand over his forehead. Stiles jerked his head away dislodging his dad's warm concern from his clammy skin.

"No. I'm fine. A little under the weather I think but I'll be … fine ... " 

… 'Liar. You know what happens to liars, little spark? When they finally tell the truth no one believes them.' A phantom voice hissed against his ear. Stiles mumbled and hid his face under the blanket in shame for lying to his father yet again. But he supposed he's not technically lying of him not feeling good.

Stiles felt like grinded pepper. Physically sore and mentally wounded. Though his body disagreed with just being mentally wounded when that place in his neck throbbed dolefully with his every heartbeat where Derek had bitten him in a mockery of passion. Not too deep to turn him into an werewolf but deep enough. And his ass was protesting it's displeasure with the slightest movement.

"Okay. Tell me if you need something. I'll be downstairs." His father's worried voice floated above him. Stiles just nodded his head. The Sheriff glanced back at his strangely quiet son a few times and left the door partially open as he made his way downstairs.

Stiles distractedly registered the sound of his dad puttering around inthe kitchen. He peeked through his blanket and went back to watching thick droplets of water sliding down his window. His eyelids were drooping slowly. Stiles hadn't known before that counting rain drops could be so calming.

 

Stiles eyes snapped open. He sat up panting; heart hammering wildly in his chest he took in his surroundings with wide eyes and panicked breaths. The familiar view of his room helped him calm down a little. The nightmare's prickly touch was still brushing softly against his consciousness. He must've dozed of somehow.

Someone had left pain killers and a glass of orange juice on his bedside table. He ignored it and got out of bed. Pain shot through his hip and below. Stiles unsteadily wobbled on his legs and gritted his teeth furiously. He glared at his hands which was gripping the headboard for balance. Then walked gingerly towards his bathroom tortoise like cause his bladder didn't care about the rest of his body.

Running with werewolves all this time had taught him how to hide blood strained clothes from his father so he had hidden last night's dirty clothes in the waste basket wrapped in some black plastic. Stiles had planned to throw them in the trash as soon as possible. Didn't have the heart to wash them. Couldn't look at the reminders. His T-shirt was ruined anyway, all torn up. Stiles took some calming breaths and looked straight ahead while he did his business. He was also feeling very proud of his talent to disinfect his cuts and clean his ass thoroughly through shock and adrenaline. Though the adrenaline had swiftly and quite efficiently wore off with Derek's first thrust ...

Stiles shivered and rubbed at his left wrist. The heavy rain had left the atmosphere almost chilly. It's a good thing he's wearing a turtleneck. The sound of pitter patter was still coming from outside. He flushed the toilet then slowly ventured to his half open door. His dad didn't seem to be at home.

The sky was still overcast so Stiles's didn't realise the time. His ears perked up for any kind of noise then he abruptly locked the door. He had already drawn lines with mountain ash below his window last night and the thought of an open door was making him dismayed. He was alone and there was no one here to protect him but himself. Stiles sighed wearily and made his way to the bed. His dad must've left for his shift already.

Stiles laid down above the blanket on his stomach facing the window; stiff and uncomfortable and searched for the rain.

 

• Derek •

Cold water poured over him from above and all around. His clothes were heavy with water dragging them down. Eyelashes sticking together and breath coming in puffs.

Derek watched the flowing water washed the ground of impurities. He blinked through the haziness of the rain and saw trees and leaves. Everything seemed normal. There wasn't even a little trace that anything had gone down in this place last night. He had hoped that if he came here again, traced his memory back then he would at least remember something. 

But nothing. When he pressed too hard his head pounded with a splitting headache and the sensation of ants crawling over filled his body. Derek couldn't seem to unlock the blind spot in his memory vault.

His wolf was really quiet now; shrunken and small. Like it felt on a base level that it did something horrible. Like Derek knew he did something horrible. He wanted to dig the witch's burnt body out from the wet ground; wanted to rip the witch's throat again and again, just like he had ripped the backseat of his car when he saw the blood where Stiles'd been sitting; just like he wanted to claw his dick for scarring the boy in the most horrific way possible.

Derek gritted his teeth. Fists clenching and unclenching to his sides.

Rain was hitting him like pins and needles. Derek was standing in the rain for so long that he had somewhat become numb to it. He wanted to beg Stiles for forgiveness; grovel at his feet. Apologize for every single shitty thing he ever said or done to Stiles. And he knew the list was quite long. Stiles's pale face and dead eyes flashed before his eyes like a horror movie. He hadn't seen the boy so quiet and still before. The thought that he was the one responsible for that silliness was haunting him relentlessly every minute. And now the thought of facing Stiles scared him a lot.

He had paced in his empty loft all night; sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He had made indents in evey furniture. But he couldn't shake off the restlessness.

Derek had burnt his tongue intentionally on scalding coffee. It healed though, before he could feel any pain. The intense urge to run through the forest had settled over him in the morning. So he took off bare footed. The idea of staying in his loft any longer had made him feel claustrophobic.

 

His feet had taken him here. The scene of his crimes washed away in oblivion, already forgotten; only alive in the memory of one Stiles Stillinski. Derek didn't know if Stiles remembered anything or too was under same spell like him that stopped him from remembering.

A twig snapped under his feet when he turned around. The picture of his ruined family home on his mind. Cold wind catching against his bare arms.

Derek didn't know what was better; wasn't sure if he really wanted the answer. He made his way to the Hale house; feet dragging through the mud. He just hoped desperately that someday Stiles will find it in his heart to forgive him. Even he couldn't forgive himself.

 

• Stiles •

Stiles blinked owlishly; his eyes adjusting in his darkened room. He was cold; curled into small ball in his side. Darkness has descended outside and inside his room. Exhaustion had finally won over and Stiles was surprised by the deep slumber without any nightmare nagging at him.

His stomach rumbled pathetically. Stiles groaned and buried his face in his pillow taking in the scent of his shampoo and drool still lingering in the pillowcase. His stomach gave another sharp pang.

Stiles made his way outside his room zombie like. Eyes on every corner and turning on every light in the house. The thought of being alone filled him with dread and this made him uneasy. He never had any problem staying home alone. Stiles hesitated at the foot of the stairs. He eyed the landline.

Stiles clutched the receiver and bit his lips; fingers softly tracing over the digits not yet dialing. He wanted to call Scott and wanted to beg him for a bro night but the idea of putting his normal facade and a fake smile was so very tiring. Being alone sucked but being with company sucked even more. So Stiles dropped the idea

He dragged his feet to the kitchen. There's a note on the refrigerator from his dad telling him to eat something. Stiles took out the leftover lunch and a bottle of water.

Every bite tasted like ash in his mouth. Cold and tasteless; Stiles hadn't bothered to reheat the food. He gobbled it down quickly, coughing when some of the food caught in his windpipe. He grabbed the water and drank in huge gulps to keep the food down.

But the food wasn't kept down. Nausea settled over him as soon as the food and too much water settled heavily in his stomach. Stiles covered his mouth and took big calming breaths before he can spill vomit in the kitchen floor. The bathroom seemed so far away. Stiles emptied his stomach's content in the kitchen sink. Mouth bitter and mood sour. Thankful that no one was home to witness his further disgrace.

 

Later that night Stiles laid very still; curled under his blanket and pretended to be asleep when his dad came to check on him. He had almost screamed when his door lock rattled when his dad came in. And tried very hard not to jolt when his dad had put a hand on his forehead to check for any fever. Stiles knew he didn't have any; a lifetime of fever was much welcome than this thing that he's not thinking about.

His dad left after a while, again leaving the door partially open. Stiles hadn't locked it before; just closed it. The thought of the open door irked him all night but Stiles didn't move to close it. He felt somewhat relaxed knowing his not alone anymore.

The rain had long since stopped and it's too dark to see the ceiling. Licking his dry lips Stiles counted sheep.

 

*

 

For three days Stiles had ignored the constant beeping of message tone from his cell phone. Stiles had covered his ears tightly when his phone started ringing instead. He had refused any offer of foods from his dad. Couldn't muster the stomach to eat anything. His dad even tried to bribe him with curly fries and pizza and greasy burgers but the mention of food now made him queasy. Water seemed like his only companion now.

For three days Stiles had missed school. He had laid in his bed constantly for three days without moving except for the bathroom. Refused to go anywhere or do anything. He was desperately trying to recover.

The wound on his neck was a still red and the cuts and scratches in his body was barely healing. Sitting down was still making him wince every time even if his ass wasn't leaking blood anymore. Stiles thinks it's the combination of werewolf and magic that making it so damn hard to heal.

His dad was starting to get really worried. Stiles can tell by the overly worried looks thrown his way. In stead of getting better he's getting worse. But he couldn't even manage to gather the energy to reassure his dad, all his remaining energy was getting spent at keeping his mind blank. 

If he pretended to be sick any longer his dad may insist on seeing a doctor. Which was the last thing Stiles wanted. Some stranger poking at him and figuring all out and blabbering it to his dad. Stiles wasn't ready to give his dad that kind of grief yet.

Stiles had avoided looking at the mirror since … since that incident but he's pretty sure he ain't glowing like an angel much less like a decent human being. Keep lying in his soft bed all day all night seemed like an excellent plan.

But he can't do that anymore. 

So Stiles sucked it up and got ready for school. Movement a little jerky and sluggish. He had a bunch of messages and missed calls from his friends already which he ignored. He had to make up some solid excuse before Scott can start hounding him for information. Stiles just hoped that his lies went unnoticed by his best friend this time.

 

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

His heartbeat was getting louder and louder. Stiles panicked at the thought that he might be having a heart attack. He clutched at the steering wheel; knuckles going bloodless. He tried to do some calming exercise. Counted to ten backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.

Anxiety filled him like acrid air at the sight of a group of students making their way towards his jeep. He panted in relief when the group made their way to the school. Stiles cursed his paranoia. Students had started to fill out and he was sitting in the school parking lot, who knows how long, gathering the teeny tiny strength to just get out of the car and get inside. 

"Hey."

Stiles shrieked in fright; his neck got an whiplash by the speed he turned his head at the source of the voice. He crowded against the door as far as possible from the passenger side door.

"Stiles. What?" Scott's curly head peeked at him timidly.

Stiles choked on spit and pawed at his chest. 

"Dude! What's wrong?! 

"N,nggh.." Stiles shook his head in denial when Scott hurried to his side. He gripped the door handle trying to keep Scott from coming near him. His vision was swimming, colors fading and greys taking over around the edges. He was going to burst open if anyone came near him right now, even it was his best friend from childhood.

Stiles hands were slipping on the handle. Sweats gathering inside his palm, grip becoming loose. And he can't seem to take a single ounce of air inside. The Jeep's door was yanked opened. Stiles tried to crawl over the seat, away from the intruder but he was caught around his shoulder. He thrashed weakly, someone caught his face forcing his tightly clenched jaw open. Then something was pressed against his mouth.

Stiles coughed, hit at his chest a few times then awkwardly straighten up. He blinked quickly and the world came into focus. Eyes going huge with trepidation when he saw Scott standing there. One hand outstretched towards him and one hand fisted around his inhaler.

"What just happened Stiles? What the hell was that? Did you have an asthma attack right now?!!" Scott shouted helplessly. Eyes round with panic and voice freaked out. 

"Why are you yelling? And no. I did not have an asthma attack … a panic attack … I think?" He croaked out. "You just came out of nowhere. You startled me and I … I panicked. Badly." Stiles explained lamely. Some people had gathered close to see the commotion, Scott glared at them and they cleared out.

"I saw you come in so I thought we'll go together. I was waiting for you on the stairs for like twenty minutes. But you were sitting in here since you parked so I came here to check what's taking you so long." Scott was looking at him with concern.

"Oh."

"And I waved at you and made noises when I came here. You know I am not exactly stealthy. Didn't you notice me? I even called your name." Stiles listened wearily as Scott babbled, talking quickly.

"Oh." Stiles thumped his head on the seat and fleetingly glanced at Scott who was shuffling nervously. "I didn't notice. Might've been a little distracted. Why didn't you come sooner?" He grimly smiled at Scott.

"Allison? I was hoping to catch her, you know. Are you sure you are okay dude? You don't look good." Scott came closer as if to touch him again and a small whimper sub consciously left Stiles's mouth. Scott backed away and made a placating gesture. Stiles knew he was freaking out Scott with his choppy behavior but he can't help it. He felt like the whole world was out to get him.

"I'm fine. Let's go." Stiles grabbed his bag and hastily got out, almost closed the car door on his hands and headed towards the school. He can't keep sitting in the parking lot all day. Time to face the world.

"Wait. Stiles." Scott jogged behind him but Stiles quickened his pace.

The bell had rang already so the hallway was deserted and Stiles was very thankful for the small mercy. He didn't know what would happen if hundreds of student were milling about. Another freak out most likely. It was easy to evade Scott. He ducked inside AP History. Also thankful that he didn't had to deal with Scott's questioning gaze for two hours. He was thankful for very little things now, like tomorrow being the start of weekend. If he can manage school today somehow he will have the whole weekend to himself. He will rest and come Monday? He will be as good as before. The same ole goofy spastic Stiles.

The class had started already, Stiles kept his head down and made his way to the far back. He can do this. He can pretend to be his normal self for one fucking day. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at his overreaction in the parking lot to be fair. If he didn't know better (he did knew better) Stiles would say, he was acting like someone who'd just been ra … Stiles swallowed thickly and listened to the flat drawl of the Professor in a trance.

 

In the morning when Stiles thought about stepping outside the house, his knees had almost gave out. His heart had thudded painfully. He had made his way to his Jeep then changed his mind and came inside the house again. This had gone on for almost four times before Stiles decided to fuck it and stay in the bed. But changed his mind again. His dad had suddenly came for a file and caught Stiles hiding quietly behind the front door. And he was so busy at keeping his breathing even that Stiles didn't noticed when his dad almost collided with him. Stiles bolted then; avoiding any kind of awkward conversation.

So here he was now. Both hands tightly gripping the desk with the effort of not to scream at the boy sitting in the fourth row jiggling his leg or at the girl two seats left from him who kept glancing at him or… or Danny in front of him, clicking his pen tick. tick. tick. tick. The sound was grating like rusty pipes in his ear. But he couldn't scream at Danny. Danny was so good and nice. Not like … not like Derek. Stiles wildly looked around the classroom; at the open door, afraid that Derek may materialize suddenly in here. It's not like anyone can stop Derek from coming here. What if he found Stiles …

Stiles tugged his hair harshly, a few strands coming loose. Thin tremors was running down his body. His long sleeve shirt was sticking at his back with sweat. It's too hot but he can't take of his high collared jacket. He abruptly stood up; chair making a clattering noise.

"Mr. Stilinski?" 

Every single head was turned in his direction. Lesson interrupted. Every thing was slowly closing on him. Every single face was merging with the familiar face of Derek Hale. Fear was making him unstable, jumpy like a spooked animal. Stiles ran out of the class before he could become a spectacle.

 

-*-


	3. Blaze

• Derek •

Derek traced the rim of his coffee cup with his thumb.

Though Derek was sitting with a straight spine and an air of nonchalance, unease pricked at his neck. He looked around the diner from his corner booth. Gaze flickering among every customer, every staff and every window. His shoulder tensed up when the bell above the entrance jiggled but it was only another coffee addict looking for a fix.

The plate full of breakfast was sitting on the table untouched and long gone cold. He didn't know why he had ordered food in the first place. Didn't really have the appetite to begin with but it felt somewhat normal to order breakfast in the morning. Maybe he didn't want to look odd or maybe he wanted to stop the waitress from coming to him in every few minutes asking if he needed anything else.

What Derek really wanted was a little bit of peace.

He felt eyes on him from every corner, judging him. Knowing what he did just by a quick glance. Derek dipped his thumb inside the cup but the coffee wasn't hot enough to distract him. It had also gotten cold.

 

A sum of Beacon Hills population knew that he had been accused of murder once. Back then he was angry at his sister's death and wasn't really forthcoming with information. He could envision how two stupid teenagers would draw the stupid conclusion. Derek would've laughed about it if it still didn't make him angry; not like the fiery blaze as it used to as first but more like a small shimmering fire.

Derek knew he didn't always looked like the average gentry and he wasn't exactly a gentleman either. Try as hard as he might but there's always a predatory edge in him. His wolf hiding too close to the surface; ready to snarl and growl at the slightest provocation. That's why he never really blended in with his peers, never made many friends. Never really cared for humans all that much except he loved the humans in his pack. Fallen in love with humans twice or he thought he loved Kate. And he had also hurt them. Twice.

 

Derek looked around the diner again and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He hadn't quite shaken off the feeling that everything wasn't still right with him apart from that particular set of missing memory. And it's making him rightfully agitated.

More people had started to fill out. He'd been sitting here since 6 am watching as people came and went. Maybe it's time to finally leave. 

The bell jingled and Derek's focus sharpened at the entrance. A group of teenagers came in; probably high schoolers. He thought he saw that Lydia girl among them. What if Stiles was with them? Weren't Stiles and Lydia were friends now? Derek's heart started to thwack. He could feel small beads of sweat sliding down his forehead. The cup between his hands seemed to crack from the force of his grip on it.

"More coffee, hon?"

Derek bit his tongue, started at the sudden voice so close to him and calmly looked up. The waitress was standing beside his table with a coffee pot, all smiles and charm. He didn't even notice when she had sneaked up on him.

Derek looked at her; young probably in her mid twenties, plum mouth with a bland smile and eyes full of desire. Desires for him. But all Derek saw was a mouth sneering at him mockingly and eyes which were full with hatred.

And now she was slowly leaning towards him, biting her lips seductively, showing off her round breasts; like a predator. Didn't she realize that he was the predator here? 

He wanted to snap at her. Wanted to rip the vile smirk from her face. Wanted to show her what he was capable of. Wanted her to get the hell away from him.

The cup broke, splashing brown liquid everywhere. Some of the liquid landed on his clothes and face. The waitress backed away and gaped at him. Derek scowled at her. Few heads were starting to turn in his direction.

"No thank you." He left enough money to cover everything. May be it would be better if he avoided public places from now on.

 

• Stiles •

Someone rang the doorbell tentatively. Stiles wished whoever it was, would go away if he didn't answer it. Stiles heaved a sigh from the sofa where he had planted his ass and refused to move since he got home. The humiliation of making a ass out of himself in front of everyone at school still running through him. But the ringing got more insistent. He didn't know who it could be; wasn't expecting any guest.

Stiles dragged his feet and peeked through the peephole, weary and alert of any potential threats.

"Hey Scott. What are you doing here?" Stiles managed with pretended cheer. Searching for a reason of Scott's sudden visit.

"You left your bag at school. Here." Scott pointed at the said item and thrust his bag towards him.

"My bag?"

"Yeah. Danny gave it to me. Said you ran out of class without your things so he held it for you. But he didn't saw you all day so he gave it to me. Said you looked really sick. You do look really sick. Are you okay?"

Stiles leaned back when Scott invaded his personal space, subtlety trying to sniff him. Stiles wanted to slam the door in his face but that would be overly dramatic. He reached for his bag, face burning hotly at the new surge of humiliation.

"Thanks, man. And I'm fine."

Scott looked at him disbelievingly. Stiles could only imagine how he looked right now; sickly pale and thin. He still hadn't looked into a mirror.

"Then why are you acting like this? You totally freaked out today for no reason. You won't pick up your phone, have been missing school. You even lined your window with mountain ash!"

Scott ranted; worry making him twitchy. Stiles rubbed his forehead petulantly. Didn't he deserve a little slice of peace without any werewolf trying to sneak through his window for a little while?

"How do you know about that?" Stiles tightly asked, mood souring and a prickle of coldness ran over his spine, hoping that it was only Scott that came to lurk outside his window.

"Because I came to check on you when you didn't answer my texts! I am worried and you are not telling me anything. What's happening to you, Stiles?"

Wow. So many words coming his way. It felt like a role reversal. Usually it's him that did all the talking. Scott was looking expectantly at him for an explanation and Stiles was starting to feel a little guilty. He wished it was Monday so that he could partly act like his normal self. He took a step inside, wanting to just run and hide in his room but he knew it would only lead to more probing query.

"I think a nervous breakdown?" He explained to Scott's dumbfounded self.

"What?"

"I think I'm having a nervous breakdown. All the supernatural crap finally catching up with me, you know. Beacon Hills was kinda quiet on the supernatural front for a while now and it's weirdly freaking me out. I am expecting monsters to jump out of every corner that's why I'm kinda jumpy. It will pass though? Eventually." Stiles haltingly elaborated, hoping that it would be enough to keep gullible Scott satisfied. 

"Oh. Okay."

Stiles fiddled with the door knob while Scott shuffled hopefully on his porch. He wanted to be alone but Scott was making these hopeful puppy eyed expression.

"Do you wanna come in? Maybe hang out or something?" Stiles reluctantly offered.

"Are you sure?" Not really. But it didn't sound like a terrible plan either. Maybe doing something instead of doing nothing would keep him away from his thoughts.

"Come in already."

 

"You know you can tell me anything right?" Scott offered after one hour into COD. 

Not this time though. "Yeah, I know." Stiles mumbled and nibbled at a pizza slice, distractedly watching as Scott's avatar lay dead on the screen.

He'd been side eyeing Stiles the whole evening, trying to be discreet but failing miserably. At one point Stiles had almost snapped at him to cut it out but at that moment the doorbell had rang announcing the pizza's arrival.

"This was fun. I gotta go though." Scott announced after eating almost the whole pizza himself and slowly got up to gather his things.

"Where? It's not that late. I thought you and Allison are still all broken up?" 

"We are. I would ask you to go with me but you still look kinda pale. So … " Scott fidgeted with his phone then typed something.

"Ask me to go where?"

Stiles leaned back against the sofa, idly tracing the video game controller and frowned at Scott. Wondering where could Scott be going right now. It's not even 7. Maybe he could tag along. Playing mindless video game had taken his mind off of things; though he was certain Scott had let him win purposely cause he wasn't even paying attention to what button he pressed.

"To see Derek. I asked him to meet me. He said to be at his old house this evening."

Every sound, every movement ceased to exist in that moment. All blood drained away leaving him gasping pathetically on the couch. Stiles clutched his head with both hands; breath hitching loudly.

"What's wrong? Are you having another breakdown?" Scott hurried over him but Stiles harshly swatted him away.

"Why? Why would you want to see him?" Stiles stuttered out. 

"I gotta ask him about some wolf stuff. Also about the witch problem but Derek said he took care of it." Yeah, he buried the body in Hale property. Scott awkwardly hovered above him and Stiles sat up straight with a sudden jerk.

"Can't you just Google it."

"I tried that … but that led to some very weird sites. So I'm sticking with the authentic werewolf knowledge. It's really important." Scott whined like a spoiled brat like if he didn't solve his werewolfy issues it'll be the end of the world. Stiles was sure that it got something to do with Allison.

"Maybe I can do some research for you. You don't really have to go see Derek, do you?" Stiles desperately pleaded. It'd been not even a week since the incident and Stiles wasn't really sure if Derek was completely sane and sound. He knew from his researches that it took almost a week for a spell to wore off. To top of it all, that was the last spell the witch had casted before dying. So forgive him for being a little paranoid.

"I thought we don't hate Derek anymore." Scott accused and Stiles got up to pace the room. Suddenly a wild energy was filling him and he couldn't sit still.

"We don't hate him." But he was kinda terrified of him nowadays. Even hearing the name 'Derek ' made him cold. He opened his mouth to tell Scott as much as diplomatically possible why it's a bad idea to go see Derek alone in the middle of the woods. But when he opened his mouth the words got stuck in his throat.

And Scott was starting to look impatience. Stiles felt torn, stuck between protecting his friend and facing his abuser. Though he knew that Scott was more stronger and could probably take better care of himself, more than Stiles ever could. But he couldn't just throw his best friend to face the beast alone.

"Fine. Okay. I … I'll go with you."

 

Stiles hands clenched and unclenched on the stirring wheel. They had taken his jeep. Scott had planned to run on foot to come here earlier. But Stiles had graciously offered his car.

"You okay, dude?" Scott asked for the 5th time and he can't be blamed because the jeep had almost swivelled off the road two times and Stiles had nearly crashed against a tree at one point. If he wasn't such a skilled driver, Stiles was sure they'd be dead by now.

"Fine." Stiles gritted his teeth. He can't decide if he should slow down or speed up.

Scott had gotten some aggressive scratching on his person from Stiles when he tried to touch the stirring wheel. He wanted to stop the car and run the other way. But there's a masochistic part in him that wanted to see Derek. Wanted to see if there's any kind of remorse in Derek's face, any kind of guilt or it's just him that's suffering.

Scott half shouted to stop the car and clutched at the seat when it seemed Stiles gonna hit the Camaro. But the Jeep stopped 2 inches away from hitting the Camaro's back bumper.

Stiles panted through his mouth like he had ran a long race. Scott jumped out of the car as soon as they stopped and gaped at Stiles nervously while Stiles looked ahead.

 

There. Standing on the brunt and broken porch was Derek Hale. Face half shadowed in the darkness and half illuminated from the Jeep's front lights, silent and gloomy. Muscles bulging up in a show of his strength, eyes red and unblinking upon him. Stiles swallowed noisily. The seat squeaked when he shifted and Stiles swore because it might draw Derek's attention to him further. He was finally realizing that it may had been not the best idea to come here. He also should've thought about a better excuse to stop Scott from coming here. Maybe even faked a heart attack.

His legs had been shaking since he entered the Hale property. Hysteria was bubbling up inside. When Stiles feet landed on the ground he almost flopped down.

Stiles glared fiercely at Scott when he made an aborted motion towards him through the haziness of fear that's building inside him brick by brick. Stiles eyes skittered against Derek chest at a lightening speed. His inside felt liquefied. His heart was already in his throat. Stiles felt like he's melting on the ground. Nothingness surrounded him from each sides. Then there was nothing.

Finally he passed out like he was hoping for all along.

 

• Derek •

At first he thought that his ears were playing tricks on him but the crabby sound of Stiles Jeep was unmistakable.

Early this day Scott had texted him asking, more like begged to see him about some inane problem. Derek was avoiding everyone now. But Scott was very insistent so he had reluctantly agreed to see him. What he did not expect was to hear the Jeep's engine and the thumping of twin heartbeats. One was normal and one was beating like a drum and Derek felt his heart also had started to beat like one too.

His eyes had started to flash between red and hazel. Derek tried uselessly to control it. The sound of Stiles's car was getting louder by the second. He had unconsciously started to pace on the broken floor.

Derek stumbled back when he stepped on a charred black strain on the floor which suspiciously looked human shaped. He's sure the strain was one of his dead family members. Memories of childhood flurried before him vividly. He blinked in the darkness, confused and angry.

Through the red hue of his vision Derek hesitantly made his way outside and waited.

 

Half broken words floated in his ear. Derek winced when it seemed that the Jeep was gonna collide with his car but it stopped in time. And all his senses focused on the figure sitting in the car.

Derek couldn't seem to look away, couldn't help when his eyes tracked every movement that Stiles made.

Stiles looked sick. Thin, dehydrated, hunched in himself and small. Derek stomach rolled violently. Stiles wobbled in place and Derek's palm itched to steady him. He wanted to shout apologies, say sorry a million times but what he really wanted was to change the past.

As if his strings cut off Stiles hit the ground suddenly and Derek's legs moved without his permission. Scott's pleadings of Stiles to wake up was a faint sound in his ears. Derek stared at Stiles's unconscious broken body, the smell of barely healed wounds assaulted his nose. His heart said he should help but his mind said he shouldn't touch.

'You did this.' a voice whispered, vicious and sharp.

 

-*-


End file.
